


the night sky once ruled my imagination

by guardiansofthefantasy



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe, Ambiguous/Open Ending, Angst, Hopeful Ending, Injuries (mentioned), Letters (sort of), Long-Distance, M/M, Minor Character Death, Pining, mentioned - Freeform, my beta said if i tag this light angst theyll hit me, so decide for yourself, space
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-21
Updated: 2021-02-21
Packaged: 2021-03-18 18:09:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,674
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29613402
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/guardiansofthefantasy/pseuds/guardiansofthefantasy
Summary: Home. The Earth.Hajime doesn’t remember the last time he seriously considered it home. It still is his home, for sure, but he doesn’t know if he’ll ever return to it. He’d like to, of course. But the chances are slim.He knows this. He has known this, from the beginning.And yet he can’t find it in himself to regret his decision. Even if it had meant leaving Oikawa behind on Earth. (Hajime had never wanted that, but when push came to shove, he had loved the vastness of space a little more than the boy he’d grown up with.)Or; in which Iwaizumi is in space and Oikawa is left behind on earth. They write each other messages
Relationships: Daishou Suguru/Kuroo Tetsurou (minor), Hanamaki Takahiro/Matsukawa Issei (minor), Iwaizumi Hajime/Oikawa Tooru
Comments: 10
Kudos: 9





	the night sky once ruled my imagination

_ Iwa-chan. _

_ How are you? Is everything still going according to plan? _

_ I started my high school career at Aoba Johsai. I know I could’ve gone to Shiratorizawa but I remember how badly you wanted to go to Aoba Johsai… I’m not going to regret that decision. _

_ I remember that you wanted to join the astronomy club so I almost did. In the end I chose volleyball—the stars are connecting us enough already and I think you wouldn’t have wanted me to throw my other hobby away for you. _

_ I miss you. _

_ Tooru _

💫

A notification on the screen of Tooru’s phone informs him that his message will reach the receiver in 147 hours, 38 minutes and 51 seconds. He sighs and shoves it into the pocket of his school uniform. Not even a second later, a hand lands heavily on Tooru’s shoulder, causing him to stumble forward a step.

“Why are you brooding out here? The clubroom is much warmer.”

Tooru inclines his head towards Matsukawa, shuffling forward as the taller boy guides him to the clubroom. “I like the snow.”

“Morning,” their captain greets them cheerfully before Matsukawa can judge Tooru further.

“Morning,” Matsukawa and Tooru respond in unison. Tooru ducks away under Matsukawa’s arm and shuffles to his locker.

The rest of the team is already changing into their practice clothes, discarding school uniforms on the benches and slamming locker doors closed.

Tooru follows them into the gym, immediately going to practice his serves after warming up and checking in with their captain.

Twenty minutes later, the third year libero joins him to practice his receives with Tooru’s serves. They don’t talk—there is no need to. Tooru enjoys the sound of sneakers squeaking against the gym floor, the thuds of balls hitting the floor, the smacks of skin against leather of a ball well received, the panting breaths of his teammates as they dive for the balls, jump to spike or serve. 

Hanamaki slams his locker closed next to Tooru, at which Tooru only  _ slightly  _ jumps, and leans against it. 

“So,” he says, running a hand through his hair.

“So what,” Tooru prompts, pushing his shirt into his locker.

“So I heard you were considering skipping the training camp next month.” Hanamaki tilts his head, his eyes flitting over Tooru’s face. It’s mildly annoying.

“And what if I am.” He grabs his bag and jacket. He doesn’t care much for the training camp. He isn’t even sure if he wants to stay in the club—playing volleyball isn’t the same as it used to be in middle school with Iwaizumi. 

“Aww man,” Hanamaki hums, following him. Luckily, they don’t share a single class, so his chances of annoying Tooru into coming to the training camp are limited. 

Unfortunately, Matsukawa and Tooru  _ do  _ share most of their classes, and (because Hanamaki and Matsukawa want to see him suffer) he is even more persistent than Hanamaki. Tooru wonders what he can do to make them leave him alone.

He does not want to attend the training camp. And if they stopped bothering him about it, he’d have enough energy to focus on his grades as well.

In theory.

Because the two people he calls his friends nowadays bother him about it during lunch and all the way home, and then again on the next day. And when Tooru isn’t trying to figure out how he can skip the stupid camp, he’s staring at his phone, reloading the messenger even though it always shows him the same pop up, telling him he has no new messages.

💫

_ Shittykawa, _

_ I’m glad to hear you’re still playing volleyball. Go to Nationals for me, yeah? That means no skipping practice and no slacking off. It also means taking breaks and not overworking yourself. _

_ The stars are beautiful out here. I don’t think I’ll ever get tired of the way the Earth looks from Mars—just the same as Mars looks from where you are. Just like any other star in the night sky. Really makes you think about how insignificant we are, in the grand scheme of things. Sometimes I imagine you down there, looking up at the sky. We watch the same stars but their constellations are different. _

_ I hope Aoba Johsai is everything you could have ever wished for. I wish I had been there with you, could be on the court with you. _

_ They’re sending me off to the Phaeton. Saying I’m being promoted. Somehow, it doesn’t feel like a promotion at all. It would be nicer if you were here with me.  _

_ I miss you, too. One day, I’ll name a star after you, ‘kawa. _

_ — Hajime _

💫

Hajime taps the surface of the table impatiently. Now that he’s on the Phaeton, their messages need even longer to pass between them. The Phaeton is on their way to Jupiter, even further away from home.

Home. The Earth.

Hajime doesn’t remember the last time he seriously considered it home. It still is his home, for sure, but he doesn’t know if he’ll ever return to it. He’d like to, of course. But the chances are slim.

He knows this. He has known this, from the beginning.

And yet he can’t find it in himself to regret his decision. Even if it had meant leaving Oikawa behind on Earth. (Hajime had never wanted that, but when push came to shove, he had loved the vastness of space a little more than the boy he’d grown up with.)

Ushijima sets a tray with food down next to Hajime on the table. 

“I heard Goshiki woke up this morning,” he says instead of  _ Enjoy your food  _ or  _ How are you? _

Hajime looks up. “He did?” The tension slowly seeps out of his muscles. “That’s good. Good news.”

Ushijima nods, pushing the tray over to Hajime. “You haven’t eaten.”

“I wasn’t hungry.” Hajime pulls the bowl closer to himself, frowning at the spoon. He still feels a little nauseous.

“You can eat in peace now,” Ushijima tells him, “since you know Goshiki is alright.”

He falls quiet again, but he’s watching Hajime attentively, eyes boring into the side of his face with an intensity unmatched by anyone else Hajime has ever interacted with. 

“Yeah,” Hajime says absently, dunking the spoon into the mushy dish. “I suppose you’re right.”

By the time the Phaeton reaches Jupiter’s orbit, the messages between Earth and Hajime take half a year to send. 

Tendou is the one to grab his wrist and pull him away from the windowsill. “You can’t see the Earth anyway,” he says nonchalantly. It’s not an attempt to reason with Hajime. “‘Sides, we’re having game night. You can’t skip them every week to yearn.” 

Tendou leans in, as if to let Hajime in on a secret, his hair brushing against Hajime’s neck. “You can also yearn while we play.”

He’s right, Hajime assumes and tugs his wrist free. “Fine. But only if you don’t throw a tantrum when I defeat you.” 

Tendou gasps in mock offence, staring at Hajime for a second before he dissolves into giggles. “Bold words for someone who doesn’t have nearly as much practice and experience as I do.”

Hajime allows his lips to quirk into a small smile and he follows Tendou into the common area. Goshiki is talking animatedly with Ushijima who looks impressively neutral—as usually.

💫

_ Iwa-chan, _

_ The Phaeton is bringing you even further away than Mars has been, isn’t it? _

_ The volleyball club elected me captain after the third years resigned. I almost didn’t accept. But I figured you’d want me to be serious about something. So here we are. I’m going to go to Nationals. For you, for me, for Aoba Johsai. Joining the volleyball club was a good idea, I think. I’ve met two guys in my year. I think we’re something like friends. _

_ It’s not the same as it had been with you.  _

_ Sometimes, I hate you for making me appreciate space so much. Now I know the names of the constellations and I know the names of the stars, and there’s no one to look at them with me. It’s unfair that you get to let go of volleyball as the remainder of me and I am stuck down here staring at the sky and the stars and all my thoughts are about you. _

_ Sometimes I hate you for it. Just a little bit.  _

_ Do you think you’ll come back one day? _

_ Tooru _

  
  


💫

“That’s Ursa Major, right there,” Hajime had said, pointing up at the sky. “Do you see the asterism of its stars? That’s Big Dipper.”

Tooru had scrunched up his face, looking up at the dark sky. “What else is up there?” he had asked, his eyes trained on Hajime’s finger.

“Oh,” Hajime had hummed, straining his neck. “Pegasus. See? It almost looks like a square. And then there’s the two ends–”

“There are no lines in the sky,” Tooru had told him, cushioning his head on his hands. “What about those stars? What constellation do they belong to?”

Hajime had dropped his hand onto his stomach. “Hm. Hercules, I think. Yeah, that should be Hercules.”

Tooru had listened to every word Hajime had said, had tried to make out the constellations in the sky. With every time they had gone stargazing together, it had become a little bit easier. 

“Why do you like the stars so much?” Tooru had asked him one day, as they slumped down in the grass of Hajime’s backyard, sticky with sweat and tears from their last match of the year.

“I don’t know,” Hajime had said. Tooru had thought the answer was more than unsatisfactory. How could he not know what fascinated him so much about the thing that had made out more than two thirds of Hajime’s personality (the other third being bugs) when they had first met? 

“I suppose I like looking at them. They’re beautiful.” 

A few years ago, Tooru probably would have had snorted and told Hajime that the stars were nothing but white dots in the black of the night. Now, he had learned to appreciate them almost as much as Hajime did. 

“One day,” Hajime had whispered, conspiratorially, “I’ll go to space and live amongst them.”

“When you die?” Tooru had asked, both confused and amused.

“No, stupid.” Hajime had punched him lightly. “To fight against the aliens.”

Aliens had been something Tooru had been more interested in than the stars. Not as much as Hajime (never as much as Hajime) but definitely more than the constellations and the dark vastness of space.

Tooru had turned around to face Hajime, his voice quiet. “You mean… are you talking about Caelum Castra?”

Hajime had nodded, a spark of anticipation in his eyes. “Yeah. Wouldn’t that be cool?”

Tooru had been quiet, staring at his friend. He hadn’t been sure if it would be cool. He hadn’t known all too much about Caelum Castra or what they did or what it meant for Hajime to know all of those things and wanting to go to space. He had only stared, the thought  _ what about me _ running on repeat in his head. 

“Sure,” he had said eventually, unsure what else to say.

💫

Tooru’s third year of high school goes by almost as uneventful as the first two. They don’t make it to Nationals in the Inter Highs and he almost quits volleyball then and there. 

He doesn’t, because Matsukawa and Hanamaki are still a force to be reckoned with, their efforts combined and multiplied now that they’re dating—or something like it. 

“A chance is a chance,” Hanamaki says, as they’re sprawled out on the floor of Tooru’s bedroom. Matsukawa digs his toes into Tooru’s thigh absently, his face scrunched up as he’s reading through his homework. He doesn’t pay them any attention, which Tooru considers a win. It’s easier against Hanamaki, who doesn’t have a bunch of in-class-collected blackmail on Tooru.

“But usually the third years retire after Inter Highs,” Tooru argues, and maybe he just wants to be done with volleyball as much as he wants to be done with the stars.

“We don’t have to.” Hanamaki stretches and flops down onto Tooru’s futon. “The others would certainly be able to manage just fine.” He looks at Tooru with an expression that very clearly says there’s a  _ but  _ coming.

So, Tooru waits, pulling at a loose thread on the hem of his t-shirt.

“But I still think we should give it one last try,” Hanamaki finishes, his face pushed into Tooru’s pillow.

“Well, you’d be the captain,” Tooru says quietly, “I’m not sure if I can handle another loss.”

“Bullshit,” Matsukawa says and it’s the first time he’s spoken since they settled down in Tooru’s room two hours ago. He hasn’t looked up from the paper though and Tooru pouts at him. If he wants to convince him, he should at least put a little more effort into it.

“I’m stubbornly going to say no,” he tells them. Hanamaki grunts and pulls the pillow over his head.

“Too bad. I’m sure Yahaba will be delighted to hear  _ he _ gets to set for me.”

Tooru still pouts, shifting into a more comfortable position. Matsukawa’s eyebrows twitch when Tooru pushes his foot away, but he still doesn’t deign Tooru any attention.

“I’d like it if you set for me though,” Hanamaki mumbles into the pillow, almost too muffled to make out for Tooru. “One last time.”

“And what if we don’t win,” Tooru offers.

“What if we do,” Hanamaki retorts, turning around onto his side and blinking owlishly at Matsukawa. “We’ll only find out if we try.”

Tooru groans and throws his eraser at Hanamaki. “But what if it’s all for nothing?”

“You like volleyball,” Hanamaki reminds him, and Tooru almost argues that  _ no, he doesn’t.  _ But it wouldn’t have been the truth, because he does like volleyball.

He also likes the stars. And Iwaizumi. Even if he wishes he didn’t, sometimes.

“Don’t give up yet,” Matsukawa adds in helpfully and then he flings his homework at Tooru. Because it’s a single piece of paper, they mournfully watch as it slowly flutters down between them, before Tooru lifts his gaze and looks at Matsukawa.

“I’m not giving up, I think.”

“Sure are, with your depressing talk. This is about Iwa-chan, isn’t it?”

Hanamaki chucks the pillow at Matsukawa. “Issei, what the hell.”

Matsukawa rests the pillow in his lap as if nothing happened, his eyes still trained on Tooru. God, Tooru hates them both. He hates them, and he hates that they know him so well.

“No,” he lies, and then, just so they stop bugging him about it: “Fine, I’ll play one more Tournament with you. We better make it to Nationals.”

Hanamaki sits up and pumps his fist into the air, whooping excited. Matsukawa is still staring at Tooru through his heavy lids, with that gaze that knows too much and tells too little. Tooru bites his lip and shifts, picking up the homework to hide behind it.

“Issei,” Hanamaki hisses and tears the pillow out of Matsukawa’s hands. “Stop it. Help me with English.”

💫

_ Shittykawa— _

_ The moons of Jupiter are so beautiful. I’m not sure if Io or Callisto is the prettiest. Neither of them compare to you, I’m sure. _

_ I’m losing track of time. It’s been a while since I was sent up here, that much I know. And it’s going well! Did I tell you I got to fight aliens on Mars a while back? Before I joined the Phaeton. We also explored parts of the Aeolis quadrangle. There were so many ruins! I’m not sure you would’ve liked them but they were incredible! _

_ Don’t be bitter, ‘kawa. I’m holding on to volleyball, too. There are a few people I met up here. We spend a lot of time together. It would be nicer if you were here, with me, too. _

_ — Hajime _

💫

Hajime bites his lip and stares at the screen of his phone. 1 year, 2 months, 4 days, 7 hours, 52 minutes and 29 seconds until it arrives on Earth. Each message he sends feels even emptier than the one before, and the further away from Earth the Phaeton travels, the longer the messages need to reach Oikawa. Hajime pockets his phone and closes his eyes. He wanted this. He still wants this. He doesn’t regret it.

When he’s out in his Tracer a few days later, maneuvering through fields of asteroids and Aeolisian attacks, he doesn’t think of Oikawa. He doesn’t think of the boy he’s left behind, the hole he left, the future they could have had.

He doesn’t think—and then another Tracer crashes into an asteroid to his right and bursts up in flames.

Hajime stares, frozen in his seat, as his own Tracer shoots forward, and away and away, and he has no idea who they just lost. 

Later, when his hair is still damp from showering and his muscles are aching from being cramped in the cockpit of a Tracer for too many hours, he learns that one of the people they’d lost in the battle had been Semi. His eyes find Shirabu, who doesn’t move, doesn’t even seem like he’s listening to the words of their Superior going on and on about honour and death.

Ushijima meets Hajime’s glance, giving him a curt nod. It’s hard to read his expression on a normal day but under these circumstances, Hajime feels like it has just become infinitely harder.

Goshiki finds him later that day, instead of Tendou, hugging him until they’ve both run out of tears. There are no words they can say, nothing to ease the pain.

“Where’s Tendou?” Hajime asks then, flexing his fingers against his thigh and watching the broken skin pull over muscle and bone.

Goshiki makes a choked sound in the back of his throat. “About Tendou… that’s why I came, originally.”

Hajime looks at him, takes in the way Goshiki’s eyes flit around the room, the way he bites his bottom lip, the way he pulls at the hem of his shirt (just as Oikawa always liked to), and he feels cold dread settle in his bones.

“Tsutomu,” he says quietly. “What happened to Tendou?”

“They’re sending him back home next week,” Goshiki mutters. He’s still not meeting Hajime’s eyes. “Uhm– he got hurt really badly earlier.”

“Is he alright?” Hajime rasps getting up from the couch. Goshiki nods. 

“As much as he can be, in his state.”

“What does that mean?”

Goshiki sighs and follows Hajime down the corridor. “He’s got burnt and all that. Broken bones, I think a concussion as well.”

Hajime frowns, heading to the medbay as fast as he could. 

“They’re saying his time up in space is over.” 

Oh, Hajime thinks. That’s a thing that can happen too, then.

💫

“I’m going to study astrophysics,” Tooru says to Hanamaki and Matsukawa’s hand peeking out from under the chabudai in Hanamaki’s living room.

Hanamaki lifts his head from his notes. “Astrophysics,” he repeats doubtfully.

“Yeah. And biology.”

“What for?” Matsukawa asks, his voice muffled.

Tooru glares at Matsukawa’s fingers. “Because I want to. It’s interesting.”

“Is this about your middle school friend?”

“Issei,” Hanamaki says with the same resignation of someone who has given up telling their cat not to climb into the closet.

“No,” Tooru lies, because it most definitely is.

Matsukawa crawls out from under the table spectacularly slow, and Hanamaki reaches out to tousle his hair. “You’re a bad liar,” Matsukawa says, which is also a lie, because Tooru is an excellent liar, thank you very much. “When it comes to him.”

Tooru crosses his arms. “So why does it concern you?”

Hanamaki drops his head onto the table with a loud thud. “Please don’t start this now.”

Matsukawa, much to Tooru’s chagrin, ignores his boyfriend’s dramatics entirely. “You can’t build your entire life on someone you’ll probably never see again.”

“What if I’ll see him again?” Tooru shoots back, even though he really doesn’t want to fight about this right now or like, ever. “And what if I’m not doing this for him but for me?”

“But you’re not,” Matsukawa says gently, “you’re doing this for him, and we all know it.”

“So? What’s the big deal?”

“Oikawa,” Matsukawa says, running a hand through his hair, “when was the last time you’ve heard of him?”

That’s been months ago. Maybe a year. Maybe fourteen months—Tooru gets what Matsukawa is trying to tell him. “It doesn’t matter,” he argues. “The distance is longer now, the messages just need some time. That’s normal.”

“Do you want to spend your entire life waiting?” Matsukawa’s words aren’t unkind, and Tooru is sure he has no ill intentions. 

Still, he worries his bottom lip between his teeth, frowning at Hanamaki’s hair. “This isn’t about you,” he tells Matsukawa, “it doesn’t concern you. You have no reason to worry.”

Matsukawa sighs. “We’re friends. I worry about you, Oikawa.”

“Okay,” Tooru says, “but you can’t make me change my mind.”

“And we won’t,” Hanamaki grunts, lifting his head. His eyes focus on Tooru and he looks exasperated. “Seriously. We won’t. We just want you to think about it before you maybe make a decision you will regret.”

Tooru purses his lips. “Okay. Noted.”

“Okay,” Hanamaki says and rubs his eyes. “Can we go back to studying, then?”

Matsukawa sighs. “Fine. Let’s go back to studying.”

💫

_ Iwa-chan! _

_ Tell me about the stars you see from Jupiter. Are there constellations even nicer than the ones on Earth? _

_ I did not make it to Nationals, even though I had six chances. It’s a little bit sad. I think we totally could’ve made it, if you had been here as well, though. Trust me, I have a feeling.  _

_ But there’s Nationals for university teams, too, so that’s where I’m headed next! _

_ How are you? I wish we could see each other again. I wonder if you’ve changed. _

_ I miss you. _

_ Tooru _

💫

Hajime’s back hits the wall with full force and he gasps for air. Ushijima takes a step back.

“I apologize. Did I hurt you?”

“No,” Hajime rasps, “all good. Gimme a sec–”

Ushijima watches him, the slight frown on his forehead being the only indicator that he’s seriously concerned about Hajime’s health. 

“You are blaming yourself again,” he says, stepping back from Hajime and dropping the wooden stick they were practicing with. 

“Hey–” Hajime warns and takes a step towards Ushijima, “we’re not done yet. We’re not–”

“Iwaizumi.” Ushijima steps forward and twists the stick out of Hajime’s hand. “We’re taking a break. You’ve overexerted yourself for today.”

“I don’t do that,” Hajime argues weakly, because he doesn’t. Usually. Fine, Ushijima is right. As he is so often.

Hajime flops down on the ground. “Do you think Tendou made it to Earth alive yet?”

“No. But it won’t take him all too much longer.” Ushijima sits down next to him. “He’ll arrive safe and sound. That’s what the engineers said.”

He clinks the wooden sticks against each other. “What happened wasn’t your fault, Iwaizumi.”

Hajime stares at his hands. “I know. I know all of that, theoretically. My brain just… doesn’t, sometimes.”

“I see.”

They sit in silence for a few moments. “Can we go again? I think I’m well rested, now.”

Ushijima looks at him, calculating, as Iwaizumi assumes. “Okay.”

That’s why Hajime likes exercising with Ushijima. They’re both eager to, and it’s not hard to convince Ushijima to go round after round.

By the time Shirabu joins them, Ushjima and Hajime are worn out, but they take turns against Shirabu. They all need this bit of physical distraction.

When Goshiki comes to call them for dinner, all three of them are sprawled out on the gym floor, covered in sweat and bruises, panting heavily.

“Are you okay?” Goshiki asks, crouching down next to Shirabu. “What happened here?”

“Practice drill,” Ushijima says matter of factly, as though practice drills usually leave them gasping for air on the floor.

💫

The end of Tooru’s childhood happened on a cold evening in late January, finishing up the overall grey day with an even darker note than it had started with.

“Shittykawa,” Hajime had called, sauntering into the gym with purpose. “Why are you still here?”

“I’m practising,” Tooru had replied, raising his chin stubbornly. 

“Let’s go home.” Hajime had started picking up the balls from the floor despite Tooru’s protests. “It’s late.”

“I’m not done yet,” Tooru had argued and had thrown another ball up into the hair for another jump serve.

Hajime had watched him patiently and when the ball connected with the floor on the other side of the net, he had taken the ball and threw it into the basket.

“Now you are. Come on. You’ve practised your serves for hours now.”

Tooru had wanted to protest, had wanted to practise his serves some more, had wanted to rope Hajime into staying a little longer and maybe avoid what he had known would be coming.

But Hajime hadn’t even given him a chance, instead starting to take down the net, until Tooru didn’t have a choice but to help him.

They hadn’t talked as Tooru got changed, even though he had drawn it out for as long as he possibly could. 

Hajime hadn’t brought anything up on their way home, even though Tooru had been sure Hajime could tell how he grew more and more nervous.

And then, it all had come crashing down when Hajime had dragged him into his backyard, staring up at the sky, although the clouds had covered up the stars that night.

“I got in,” Hajime had said, and Tooru had immediately known what he was talking about. He had pretended he didn’t, just so he could pretend it wasn’t the truth for a while longer. “Caelum Castra. They chose me.”

“Oh,” Tooru had said, because he hadn’t known what else to say.

Hajime had stretched and there had been a smile on his lips, brighter and livelier than Tooru had ever seen him smile. He hadn’t understood back then, why it had hurt so badly.

“I’m sorry,” Hajime had muttered, looking at Tooru. It had been the first time Hajime had ever apologised for following his dream. “I know it’s not easy for you to see my dream working out while yours isn’t.”

Tooru had blinked, unsure how to explain that Hajime had been wrong with his assumption, pretty much. It was way worse that Hajime planned to leave at all.

“It’s okay,” Tooru had answered, frowning a little. “I’ll be fine.” Because he had to be.

Later, Tooru would regret not telling Hajime that he was proud of him, and that despite all of it, he had hoped Hajime wouldn’t get accepted and wouldn’t leave him behind.

💫

_ Shittykawa, _

_ I’ve lost track of when this message will end up with you. I’ve lost track of where you might be as of now. Wherever you are, I hope you’re well. I hope life is good to you. You’d deserve it. _

_ I miss you, more than ever. People die around here. More often than not, nowadays. We’re here to fight the aliens—reality only hits you once you see it upfront and close. _

_ I hope you’re alright. I really do. Everyday I realise how much less likely we are to meet again. I knew this. We both did. And yet— _

_ The stars are beautiful as ever. They keep me going. Nothing reminds me of you as much as the stars do. _

_ — Hajime _

💫

Tooru studies astrophysics despite Matsukawa’s words. And he studies it with the intent of signing up with Caelum Castra—he’s going to be so good they can’t refuse him.

He’s still playing volleyball, as a way to keep himself fit. It was something Matsukawa said to him, when they parted.  _ Try to make a few friends, at least. It’ll do you good.  _ His words sounded so similar to something Iwaizumi would’ve said, maybe, had he been there with them. So, Tooru takes them to heart and tries out for the volleyball team at his university.

He gets in, too, but only because the team really isn’t all too good. But it doesn't matter. Tooru doesn’t even have the goal to go to Nationals anymore, at least not primarily. (If they do make it to Nationals, he’ll work his hardest to make it worth it, though.)

Turns out, Matsukawa is right (he wouldn’t tell him that, of course) and Tooru meets a few nice people on the team. There’s Daishou, who behind his snarky demeanor, is actually quite easy to get along with, at least for Tooru, who shares a few similarities with him. They share a couple of classes and soon form a study group, in which they spent the majority of meetings in the library or at Tooru’s dorm, because Daishou absolutely does not get along with his own roommate.

Which is unfortunate, since Kuroo shares some classes with Tooru as well, and they’re somewhat friends. So, Tooru studies with Daishou and he studies with Kuroo, and sometimes he brings up the idea of a study group. He’s usually met with exasperation from Daishou and some sort of disgust from Kuroo. It’s kind of funny to Tooru, since it’s so obvious that there’s no real malice or hate behind it—his friends are just extraordinarily childish and petty.

They play alright together, which surprises Tooru the first time they practised as a team. He sort of assumed that Daishou and Kuroo’s (light) animosity would translate onto the court and impact the way they play, but it doesn’t. For some reason it amuses him to no end, but he doesn’t bring it up with either of them.

Kuroo is nice and attractive, and the last time Tooru received a message from Iwaizumi has been over two years ago, since he sent his last just before starting university.

💫

The Phaeton is, for all that it’s worth, a nice ship, but a ship is a ship after all, and not being able to explore new places and being trapped in the ship does get boring after some time. Even for Hajime, who had dreamt about this since he learned what space is.

There are only so many times he can trek through the hallways in circles before Shirabu shoots him an annoyed glance when Hajime passes the medbay a third time in the same hour.

“Why are you running around like you lost your purpose?” Shirabu asks, putting down whatever report he’d been reading.

“I’m bored,” Hajime says and steps into the medbay. “I’m not sure why. I feel like we’re turning in circles. Every day’s the same.”

Shirabu’s brows furrow up and he looks at Hajime’s arm scrutinising. “You’re restless because you’re not allowed to go on missions or exercise.” Understanding flashes over his face. “Have you tried reading a book?”

Hajime settles down on the cot and looks around the medbay. “It’s just weird. I’m usually around people, with Ushijima and Goshiki and Tendou and–”

“I know,” Shirabu says softly, picking up his report again. To avoid having to look at Hajime, probably. Hajime doesn’t mind.

He swings his legs, his eyes flitting over the blank walls, the plastic shelves.

“Tendou’s alright,” Shirabu speaks up after a while. “He’s staying with Caelum Castra, on-Earth-division.”

Hajime hums. “That’s good to hear.”

“Yeah.” Shirabu sighs. “It irks me, sometimes. That we weren’t able to help him up here.”

“Hey,” Hajime starts.

“No, yeah, I know,” Shirabu mutters, putting the report down. He slumps down on one of the stools. “I know. I’m glad he’s okay now, really. But still… I feel like we  _ should have _ been able to help more.”

“Shirabu. There was nothing more you could’ve done.” Hajime folds his hands in his lap. “If it hadn’t been for you, he probably wouldn’t have been stable enough to even be considered for the trip back to Earth.”

Shirabu nods. “Yeah… you’re right. I know.” He sighs and rubs his face. “Thanks.”

Ushijima is, as expected, absolutely delighted to hear about Tendou’s wellbeing. Hajime knows why, and for some reason that simple thought sends him down a spiral of thinking about Oikawa, again, and about the distance between them.

It’s been years since they last saw each other, and he wonders how Oikawa had been in those years.

Hajime looks out into space and he sees the stars, but all he thinks about is Oikawa. As per usual. He misses Oikawa. It has always been a given.

And now, as he’s years away from him, he starts to realise how much he gave up back when he was fifteen, and too blinded by his dream to see what going to space to fight aliens  _ really  _ meant. 

He thinks back to nights spent under the stars, and afternoons spent in the gym, and weekends spent together, like everything they did. It had always been them. It had always been Tooru and Hajime and he wonders when they had let it turn into Oikawa and Iwaizumi. He thinks back to bright smiles and golden-brown eyes and slender fingers. He thinks about hesitant touches, lingering touches, gentle touches, reassuring ones and ones with intention and purpose. He thinks about Oikawa, about the moles on his collarbone and the freckles scattered on his nose, and he thinks about the way his hands held onto Hajime’s shirts so desperately, the way his lips curled up in displeasure whenever things didn’t turn out the way he had wanted them to. He thinks of chubby cheeks, and limbs a little too long, and he wonders if Oikawa has grown up in any way at all.

Most of all, he thinks about the way the tears had streamed down Oikawa’s face, the countless times Hajime had managed to help him calm down, and the one time he hadn’t. 

He thinks of the boy he’s left behind, the boy he’s spent his entire life with, up until he didn’t, the boy that still means the world to him, and it crashes down on him with the speed of an asteroid, shatters his heart with realisation, and Hajime’s breath hitches in his throat as his eyes get caught on the stars. Ever shining, beautiful and endless.

Just like his love for one Oikawa Tooru, who he foolishly gave up at the tender age of fifteen, when the stars somehow had been more important than Oikawa.

Even though they never were. They shouldn’t have been.

💫

Unlike his friends from high school, Kuroo does not berate Tooru for waiting on messages that never come. He’s patient, in a way of not really caring about it at all, doesn’t even raise an eyebrow when Tooru loads his messages right next to him. He comments sometimes, asking if Tooru has gotten the message he was hoping for. It’s nice, in a casual way, but enough to make it obvious that Kuroo knows that it isn’t any of his business and he has no intention of changing it.

Daishou is blissfully oblivious. Or so Tooru assumes, until he figures out that Daishou’s perception rivals his own (with different intentions), and it becomes obvious that Daishou simply pretends not to care. Tooru makes it his goal to learn why, which turns out to be easier than anticipated, because the next time he pulls out his phone and loads the messenger, Daishou glances over, and then back at his homework and acts as if nothing had happened.

“You can ask, you know,” Tooru offers, itching to talk about Iwaizumi. Especially since Iwaizumi doesn’t really talk to him anymore.

Daishou hums. “I know. I figured you prefer not to have others interfere.”

“Oh,” Tooru says and leans over the table, pushing down Daishou’s book. “Sweet. Didn’t know you cared.”

Daishou sighs and looks at him. “We’re friends, Oikawa. Of course I care.” He scrunches up his nose. “Even though your taste in friends is truly horrible.”

“Aww, don’t be so hard on yourself.”

Daishou pulls his book back from Tooru. “I assume my taste isn’t better.”

“Hey,” Tooru protests, “Don’t be mean! I’m a sad and broken man.”

“Both of you, actually,” Kuroo says and drops his bag down on the floor next to a free chair.

“What are  _ you  _ doing here?” Daishou groans.

“This is the library.” Kuroo sits down. “Public space. I have a date with Tooru-kun.”

Tooru beams at Kuroo. “Hi! So glad you could make it.”

“I hate you both,” Daishou announces, but much to Tooru’s delight, he doesn’t get up and stays at the table, glaring at Kuroo as though the middle blocker had personally offended him. (Which is probably the case, in some way or the other.)

“Aww,” Kuroo coos and leans over Daishou’s papers. “Oh, hell. Why’s your handwriting so atrocious?”

“You can’t talk,” Daishou snaps and gestures at Kuroo’s biology notes. “It’s a wonder you can still read it.”

“Oh,” Kuroo says and rests his chin on his hand. “I’ll let you in on a secret.”

“I really don’t care.”

“I actually can’t read it anymore,” Kuroo goes on anyway, and Tooru hums delighted as he watches Kuroo smirk at Daishou, and as the irritation seeps into Daishou’s features. It’s always a sight to behold.

He fights the urge to tell them  _ I’ll leave you to it _ and ditch them, even though it would probably help their unresolved tension, but he’s not really eager to lose both of his friends because they can’t be civil around each other.

Like all of the good things in Tooru’s life, his volleyball career finds a sudden and painful end on a dull afternoon.

It’s a little anticlimactic, if he’s honest, a little fast and unclear. One moment he’s setting the perfect toss to Nitori, the next he’s on the floor, vision spotted white and black. And then, he’s bowing down with the rest of his team, sharp pain in his ankle, and another volleyball season ends without him having made it to Nationals. 

Tooru stops playing after that, halfway through his last year at university, not because of the minor ankle injury he received in the last game—albeit he does give it as a reason whenever someone asks.

He makes a few other decisions too, during that time, he moves the messenger out of sight on his phone, and he sends Hanamaki a message, asking whether he wants to reconnect, maybe.

It’s sort of therapeutic, to finally put the past behind himself, while rebuilding meaningful relationships. 

Hanamaki agrees to meet up. Because he’s nice and has always been Tooru’s favourite, he announces that he’ll bring Matsukawa  _ before _ they meet. Because Tooru isn’t in the mood to deal with them on his own, he convinces Kuroo to accompany him to the park. When someone calls it a double date, neither of them disagree.

And that’s how Tooru accidentally ends up dating Kuroo, and sort of accidentally ruins his newer friendship.

The day itself starts just fine. Kuroo agrees to Tooru’s offer within the blink of an eye—in hindsight, he seemed almost a little  _ too  _ eager to join Tooru on the dreaded meeting.

They arrive punctually, unlike Matsukawa and Hanamaki, who are nowhere to be seen when Tooru and Kuroo head into the cafe they decided to meet in. Kuroo chooses a table at the window and they sit down next to each other, knees touching and elbows bumping into each other. Tooru doesn’t mind, he’s generally a fan of physical touch and being close to others. 

Kuroo passes the time by reading the menu to Tooru in hushed whispers, making the dishes sound as seductive and hilarious as possible. He leans in close, his breath against the shell of Tooru’s ear and he has to pause for every other dish, just to giggle into his fist.

“Ohoho,” Matsukawa says when he slides down onto the bench on the other side of the table, fashionably late. Hanamaki follows up close, Matsukawa’s hand attached to his sleeve.

“You’re late,” Tooru offers as a way of greeting, but he doesn’t look at Matsukawa. He can’t explain why. Force of habit, perhaps. Kuroo next to him jerks his knee against Tooru’s and puts down the menu.

“Oh, yeah,” Hanamaki says, and at least he’s attempting to look apologetic, “sorry about that. We kind of, sort of got lost along the way.”

Matsukawa takes the menu from Kuroo, nodding at him. Tooru realises he should probably introduce them.

“Ah, right. This is Kuroo. He’s uh–”

“Your boyfriend?” Matsukawa asks, sounding hopeful, of all things, although he does his best to appear nonchalant. 

The waitress interrupts any possible protests Tooru could have offered. That, and he really doesn’t feel like arguing with Matsukawa within ten minutes of seeing each other again. Kuroo orders for both of them, without hesitating even the slightest bit. Tooru figures if he ever needs a fake date for anything, Kuroo might just be the perfect option. 

Catching up only works well because Hanamaki is the kindest soul on this planet (after Daishou, probably—which really says a lot about the people Tooru hangs out with) and ever so patient. 

No one mentions Iwaizumi. There are no judgmental expressions or passive-aggressive quips from Matsukawa. There are no concerned glances from Hanamaki. 

Kuroo gets along a little too well with both of them, trading out jokes and laughter as though  _ he _ is the one who has known them since high school.

Tooru’s eyes meet Hanamaki’s, and he doesn’t find it in himself to be jealous over it.

The topic of Tooru’s major is gracefully avoided, but the topic of his friends’ engagement isn’t. It comes as a surprise to Tooru, even though he figures it shouldn’t have. They’ve practically been engaged ever since the moment they met—or started dating, at least. 

Matsukawa tells them about Kindaichi’s help with picking a ring, a task their former kohai had taken way more seriously than Matsukawa himself, and Tooru is pleased to notice that it doesn’t sting the slightest bit. The fact that he hasn’t really been involved in their engagement. (And won’t be involved in their wedding, but it’s something he has yet to find out.) 

Unfortunately, according to the neverending pattern in Tooru’s life, all luck is followed by abyssal doom, and Daishou cancels a good ninety percent of their study meetups. He ends up cancelling the remaining ten percent, too, although Kuroo hadn’t even been invited in the first place.

Maybe it isn’t about Kuroo. Tooru has been sure it is. It matters, suddenly, because without Daishou he’s down a friend, and since he gave up all hope on Iwaizumi, it reduces the number of friends he has down to three.

💫

Their goodbye had been going pretty much as expected. Tooru had hated it. Hajime had, too, even if it had been hard to tell, under his excitement. 

“I’m going to space,” he had said, as if Tooru had forgotten. As if he could have forgotten. Hajime had sounded excited and eager and his eyes had sparkled more than the night sky ever had, and Tooru had hated everything about it.

Because he hadn’t been able to take it all, because he hadn’t wanted to see Hajime be in love with the stars and leave him behind, Tooru had turned around and walked away. 

As he had usually done, he had run away from the reality of it all, from goodbyes and Hajime. He had turned around, and he had ignored his best friend calling out to him, and he had tried not to cry, because someone would have commented on it, told him that he’s a big boy and shouldn’t be crying and  _ aren’t you happy for Hajime? _

Of course he had been happy for Hajime. Of course he had wanted for him to follow his dreams. But not like this. Not without Tooru.

He had cried, and because Hajime had always been the faster runner of them, he had caught up to Tooru before Tooru had been able to wipe his tears.

He had been thirteen years old and had been about to lose his best friend.

“Don’t cry, Shittykawa,” Hajime had said, punching his shoulder. “This isn’t a goodbye forever.”

“You can’t know that,” Tooru had argued, stubbornly.

Hajime had hummed, looking up at the sky wistfully yet again, and Tooru had wanted nothing more than to pull down every last star for Hajime, just so he didn’t have to go up to them.

“I do.” Hajime had looked at Tooru and had held out his hand. “We’ll meet again. I know it.”

Tooru had looked at him, doubtfully, but he had wiped his tears and snot and had accepted the hand of his best friend. 

💫

After Hajime figured out that he’s in love with his best friend, and probably has been since they’ve known each other, things start to fall into place. He still finds Oikawa in everything he does, in the stars outside his window that give him hope, in the artificial gravity that keeps him grounded, in the smiles of his friends that keep him happy, in the food that keeps him healthy, in the sleep that keeps him awake. Oikawa is everywhere when Hajime looks for him, and he’s everywhere when Hajime doesn’t.

Ushijima is, too, but for different reasons. Mainly: he’s  _ actually _ Hajime’s partner on missions and he’s up here in space while Oikawa isn’t. (Not that that’s his fault—Hajime did leave him behind, sort of.)

With his newfound peace, Hajime is surprised that the days seem more manageable. He finally knows what to look forward to when he sees his friend again. He can finally move on from his middle school memories and anticipate all the new memories he’ll make with Oikawa once they meet again. 

He doesn’t consider the fact that maybe Oikawa has given up on him and waiting—the thought doesn’t cross his mind, because Oikawa is so ever present in his reality, and Hajime can’t imagine it being any different for Oikawa.

The Phaeton gets lost. 

It’s not the normal kind of getting lost, the one where they somehow end up off-track and have to calculate to find their way back to the mapped out places of the universe. It’s the kind of getting lost where the disturbances from outer space interfere with their systems and render their comms useless and threaten their lives in the worst case. 

Today, it is the worst case. The artificial gravity is the first thing to malfunction, followed closely by the lights. Hajime barely has a chance to hold onto the nearest handle, before he can’t see anything at all. 

“Iwaizumi,” Ushijima’s voice rings from not too far, “are you alright?”

“Yeah,” Hajime mutters, clinging to the handle. It’s not the nicest feeling, to suddenly lose foot and float in the air. Or lack thereof—because the blaring emergency noise and the slowly flashing red lights signal the oxygen failure, and Iwaizumi forces himself to calm down.

He’s been in space for ten years. He’s not going to die before he has told Oikawa how he feels about him. He’s not going to let panic ruin his chances of survival. 

Ushijima slowly pushes himself over to him, moving along the handle at the wall. “Let’s head to the emergency room.”

Hajime nods, moving along the wall. 

The nearest emergency room is unproportionally far away from their position. It’s one of the faults of the Phaeton, that had surely been pointed out back when it was built, but regarded minor enough to not be corrected, because  _ how often would you actually need to use the emergency rooms from far away corridors, anyway.  _

Ushijima keeps turning around to Hajime, and the flashes of red painted concern on his face. Hajime isn’t sure for what exactly—their safety, their survival, or the slow pace Hajime is going. 

As it turns out, their systems didn’t crash because of outer space disturbances, but because the Phaeton had sort of crashed through the atmosphere of Athenos, and is now rapidly going towards the surface.

Hajime does not have the energy to process the information right now, although he figures what it means (they are going to die?) He slumps down on the ground next to Goshiki, who looks way more freaked out than he admits. Hajime can’t blame him—they are probably going to die, or worse. 

💫

Hajime had stopped apologising to Tooru for living his dream. Tooru still thought it was more than unfair—but he hadn’t been about to ruin his friend’s entire future. So he had done what he had done best the past months: smiled brightly and pretended it didn’t hurt as much as it had.

Hajime, for all he was kind-hearted and caring, had been consumed by the reality of him going to space and his last day on earth continuously getting closer, and he had been blissfully unaware of Tooru and his pain. Tooru had blamed him for it, back then, but he had grown up and learned not to.

It probably would have been easier for Tooru, had he had gotten the chance to actually say goodbye to Hajime in front of the Caelum Castra main quarters (see his eyes light up with joy and excitement), but due to school and unfortunate mismatchings of schedules, he hadn’t been able to. And maybe, he had told himself, it had been better that way after all. To not have to see the admiration in Hajime’s eyes for something that wasn’t Tooru.

Not that he had ever been able to rival the stars.

So instead, they had said goodbye at the train station, sneaking away from the watchful eyes of Hajime’s mother. (She had been kind to Tooru, letting him sit in the backseat with Hajime and offering to take him back home so his parents didn’t have to make the trip.)

“I don’t want you to leave,” Tooru had said after all. He hadn’t been able to help himself—he had needed Hajime to know. Not everything, but at least a little. At least this bit. 

“I know.” Because of course Hajime had known, and yet—

“Don’t go,” Tooru had muttered, trying to fight the childish stubbornness threatening to rise in his stomach, to spill out. To ruin their last moment together. (Although Hajime had insisted it wouldn’t be their last moment. He hadn’t stopped mentioning it. As though Tooru would follow him into space someday—he wouldn’t. The stars had always been pretty to him, but going to space had felt too final for Tooru.)

Hajime had raised his hands and put them on Tooru’s shoulder, squeezing gently. “Don’t miss me too much. I’ll be back before you’ll even realise I was gone.” 

Tooru hadn’t been able to tell whether Hajime had lied to soothe him or whether he had actually believed in those words. It hadn’t mattered because it hadn’t changed the inevitable, ugly truth: Hajime was still going to leave and Tooru was still going to be left behind.

“My train will be there soon.” 

Tooru had bit his lip and nodded silently, fighting the urge to wrap his arms around Hajime and never let go. To grab his hand and drag him away and away and away, until he would no longer think about going to space, but instead would dream about going to Nationals with Tooru and their new high school team after the holidays.

“I won’t forget you,” Hajime had whispered, cupping Tooru’s face. It had been such a gentle gesture, and so sudden, that Tooru hadn’t been able to do anything but stare at his friend, at the person that meant the world to him, who was more important than any dream, any star—who had broken his heart, and would do it again, and yet Tooru couldn’t find it in himself to stop loving him. 

“I promise,” Hajime had added, and he had sealed it with a kiss.

Tooru, bless his instincts, had seized the opportunity and kissed back, desperate and longing. He had never wanted to stop. Tooru had wished it was possible to stop time, to live in one moment forever. He would have chosen this one. If Hajime’s hands on his cheeks, and Hajime’s hair between Tooru’s fingers, and Hajime’s foot on Tooru’s toes, and Hajime’s lips on Tooru’s lips had been the last and only thing Tooru could experience for all of eternity, he would take it gratefully. 

Instead, the kiss had ended, and they had panted, breaths passing between them as they stared into each other’s eyes (and Tooru had wondered if maybe he had finally been enough—if he had finally been just as important to Hajime as the stars were), and then the speakers above them had announced the arrival of Hajime’s train and they had parted, stepped away from each other. Tooru had felt cold and lonely, swallowing thickly around the lump in his throat.

And then, he had pushed the memory away and away and away, and he hadn’t thought about it ever again.

💫

Tooru would be lying if he says he  _ actually  _ managed to forget about Iwaizumi. (He hasn’t. How could he have, when everything in his life has always been about him?)

It’s not painful in the least, if anything it’s oddly comforting. Because he knows what he wants, now. He wants to see Iwaizumi again, and he won’t give up until he has.

And maybe, life feels a bit bad for everything it has thrown at him, because things start to fall into place after Tooru has come to that conclusion.

“Hey, Tooru-chan,” Kuroo calls, catching up to him easily. “Hey, uh. Can we talk?”

“Uh, sure,” Tooru shrugs and tilts his head, taking in Kuroo’ expression. “So, what is this about?”

“We should probably break up.” Kuroo avoids Tooru’s eyes, which is a little too obvious, and there’s a deep frown etched into his features, a little uncharacteristically. 

Tooru doesn’t mention the fact that they weren’t technically dating. He waits patiently, even though he can already guess what—or rather,  _ who _ —this is about. 

“Look,” Kuroo says and runs a hand through his hair, still not quite meeting Tooru’s eyes. “I know we never actually, you know, dated or anything like it, but I also never denied it when someone asked.” He sighs and drops his hand. “Basically I think everyone kind of assumed we were dating and I never said we weren’t.”

“I know,” Tooru says, patient and pretty much curious. He could probably save Kuroo from the awkwardness—but where would be the fun in that?

“Look,” Kuroo repeats, and then he groans frustrated and plops down in the grass. “Fuck, this is weird.”

Tooru’s heart aches with how much he reminds him of Iwaizumi with that. He settles down next to him. “We’re breaking up,” he prompts, staring off into the distance. The campus is bristling with students, making their way from one building to the other, some leisurely, some hurriedly

“Yeah.”

“Because you’re not actually in love with me,” Tooru adds, amused.

“Yeah.”

“And because you’re in love with someone else.”

Kuroo groans again. “Yeah.”

Tooru smirks and decides to push it. “Because you’re in love with Daishou.”

Kuroo buries his face in his arms and makes a strangled noise. Tooru takes it as a noise of affirmation, and goes on. 

“He avoided me, by the way.”

“I know,” Kuroo says muffled. “I think he was jealous.” 

Tooru looks at his friend, at his dark, messy hair, and the miserable slump of his shoulders. 

“That’s why I never denied it,” Kuroo mutters. “I  _ wanted _ him to be jealous.”

“So, in conclusion, you used me to get back at Daishou?” Tooru summarises, but he can't even find it in himself to be hurt. Under different circumstances he would've been angry, would've yelled at Kuroo, probably. But now he doesn't feel anything, except for a bit of relief and maybe peacefulness and some amusement at Kuroo’s expense. He’s surprisingly fine with the situation. In fact, it’s funny—Tooru huffs once, and then he laughs heartedly, and he hasn’t felt this light in a while. 

Kuroo bites his lip, turning his face to Tooru. “Maybe, just a little.”

“Geez,” Tooru wheezes and calms himself down. “Maybe you should go and sort that out with him.”

“Are you mad?”

“I should be,” Tooru hums, but his friend’s expression is so pathetic to look at, that he really can’t be. “You’re my friend, Kuroo. And I’m leaving for who knows how long.”

Kuroo reaches out, rests his hand against Tooru’s cheek. Tooru hasn’t even noticed how familiar and comforting that gesture had become in the past weeks. “I know. Thank you. For everything.”

Tooru rolls his eyes and takes Kuroo’s hand. “You’re welcome. Will you be there on Saturday?”

“Of course.”

“Bring Daishou, yeah?” Tooru winks at him. “And don’t fight. I want to leave knowing you both look out for each other.”

“Alright,  _ mom,”  _ Kuroo huffs mockingly. His face relaxes a bit, and he takes a step back. “When you come back, I’ll be married to that asshole.”

“Dream big or go home, huh?”

“Learned from the best.” Kuroo pats his shoulder. “I hope you find your world up there.” His world. Tooru smiles softly. He’s still feeling light, and sort of happy. Like he can accomplish anything he sets his mind to. Like he felt back when Iwaizumi was next to him and they had the same dreams, and looked at the same stars.

“I hope so too.”

Despite all (or maybe because of all), Matsukawa and Hanamaki are there on Saturday to say goodbye. Worse, they’re crying. Those assholes. Tooru fights tears himself, but looking at them crushes all his efforts.

When Kuroo and Daishou arrive (definitely arguing but Kuroo is smirking, so Tooru supposes it’s alright), the three of them are crying in each other’s arms. It’s sort of a mess, honestly. 

Daishou, for all that it’s worth, actually manages to stay true to his word and doesn’t cry, but he does wrap his arms around Tooru and he apologizes in a soft voice for letting their last weeks pass by in bitterness, when they could have done so many other things.

“Don’t do this,” Tooru replies, equally soft, “I could never resent you for that. Love’s a tricky little thing, and I understand you better than I wish I did.”

After all, Tooru has spent countless nights wishing the sky would lose its stars, and Hajime would look his way instead.

Daishou looks at him and smiles, and Tooru thinks to himself, maybe everything is going to be alright for him, too. 

Their goodbye is not nearly as dark as the one Tooru had shared with Hajime years ago. It’s hopeful this time, and Tooru hasn’t known goodbyes could feel this way—but he’s glad they can. 

He steps into the building and turns around to his friends another time, to Matsukawa and Hanamaki who had cared so much about him that it had nearly driven them apart, who had helped him collect the pieces Hajime had broken; and to Daishou and Kuroo, who had been there for him, who had helped him build himself again, piece by piece, with unwavering patience.

Tooru’s phone chirps in his pocket as the doors fall shut behind him, and he stares at his phone in disbelief, excitement bubbling in his stomach.

_ One new message. _

Yes. He has made the right decision.

💫

_ Tooru, _

_ The Phaeton is still drifting through space. It’s peaceful most of the time. Sometimes we get a little lost and have to navigate back into mapped territory. Isn’t that weird? That there’s some parts that aren’t really mapped out?  _

_ You’d think we use those times to actually map out where we are, but that’s not really what happens. We make notes, and then that’s it. A bit bewildering, honestly. _

_ This message will reach you in 8 years. Which means you should be 25 now, pretty much. That’s insane. I can barely imagine what life is like in 8 years. Maybe I’m already back home with you? That would definitely be my favourite version. _

_ When I get back home, will you be there for me, I wonder? _

_ I hope you haven't forgotten me yet. I certainly won't have forgotten you. When I get back, I think I want to live with you. _

_ I love you, Tooru. I don't think that'll change in the next 8 years. _

_ Sometimes I lie awake at night, thinking about the last time we saw each other, and I hate myself a little for leaving at all. You probably hate me for leaving, too. That’s alright. I think I can live with that. _

_ Tooru, I can’t tell what will happen in the next years. But I hope we will meet again. And if we do, I hope you’ll let me kiss you again. I think I have to make up for a decade of lost chances. _

_ — Love, Hajime _

💫

Hajime has lost count for how long they’ve been stranded. It’s not all that bad—the planet is calm enough to move around in their Seekers, and the crew has managed to get the oxygen back to working, and most of the other systems are working more than they are not. 

It doesn’t change the fact that they’re slowly but steadily running out of supplies, or that Shirabu is working overtime, since his only superior had gone missing in the crash. He isn’t the only one either, and Hajime is glad that his friends appear to be safe and alive. 

“They’re sending a rescue team,” Ushijima says one day as he settles down at the table next to Hajime. He’s glad that they have managed to restore as much normality as possible. 

Goshiki looks up from his meal, hope written all over his features. “Really? Are they bringing us supplies?”

Ushijima nods. “Yes. But they might also come to take us home.”

“What?” Hajime asks before he can stop himself. It’s not something that’s all that surprising, but somehow the knowledge that he might get to go home this soon hits a little different.

“We’ve collected a lot of valuable information,” Ushijima explains patiently, as though Hajime and Goshiki are toddlers. “It’s enough to help us come up with new strategies against the Aeolisians.” 

Hajime leans over the table, his lunch forgotten. “So you’re saying we might go home?”

“Yes. There’s another ship out here, the Osiris. They’re going to take over the more military missions.” 

Shirabu interrupts Ushijima by collapsing onto a chair next to Goshiki and panting heavily. “You’ll never guess who’s been confirmed to be in the rescue team,” he manages to get out.

Ushijima frowns at him. “Who?” he asks and shoves Hajime’s food over to Shirabu, since it has apparently become clear that Hajime isn’t going to eat it.

“Tendou,” Shirabu says. Hajime barely hears him over the fact that  _ the members of the rescue team have been confirmed _ and he has to check the list, just in case.

Ushijima’s face lights up. “Really?”

“Yes,” Shirabu confirms, “hey, Iwaizumi where are you going?”

Hajime ignores him, hasting down the hallways so fast it almost feels like flying. They’re going home. 

He slides into the communication room, almost crashing into the doorframe, and opens the document with the names of the rescue team.

His eyes skim over them and sure enough, Tendou Satori is going to come and rescue them.

And then—Hajime bites his lip and he can’t stop himself from breaking into a smile.

_ Oikawa Tooru, _ it says, right there.

💫

_ Tooru, _

_ Haven’t I told you? I’ll wait for you—and I’d chase you, too. I’d do anything to make sure we can experience everything together from now on. _

_ The stars, the vastness of the universe, losing volleyball matches—growing old together, now that we didn’t get to grow up together as much as we could have. _

_ We will meet again. _

**Author's Note:**

> i'm so sorry, i swear i actually love matsukawa  
> thanks for reading!  
> check out my twitter [@heamptyart to see some snippets of wips and stuff!](https://twitter.com/heamptyart/status/1358457830810992642)


End file.
